635 

I 

;67 
>y 1 



:-^ 



iHE TRAIL 
BACK HOME 



-BY- 



ROSS FARQUHAR 




PRICE 35 OSNTS 



Eldridge Entertainment House 

Franklin, Ohio sb^ Denver, Colo. 

944 So. LoKMi StTMt 



i?N 



Good Tilings To Keep The Ball Rolling 

A Bunch of Stunts for Hallowe'en 

A new book of doings, contributed by man;' ivide- 
awake writers. Covers almost any kind <?f i'ostival, 
party or entertainment you w^ish to give. Drills, 
games, stunts, decorations, etc. Price 75c. 

The Fairy and the WitcK 

A 1-o.ct aliegcrical sketch for Hallowe'en, by A. D. 
Nelson. 1 adult, maJe or female, and any number of 
children. In this very picturesque little play, the 
Black Witch of Hallowe'en falls under the spell of 
the White Fairy and superstition gives way to rear 
son. Time, about 20 minutes. Price,' 25c. 

The Frolic of the Witches 

By Juanita Mae Culp. This is a clever little drill es- 
pecially adapted for Hallowe'en. Introduces flash- 
lights and brooms, and is for 11 girls. Price, 25c. 

Guess Who Song and Drill 

Something novel. Price, 25c. 

The Haunted Gate 

By Edith Wormwood. A clever play for Hallowe'en. 

The capture of the ghosts furnishes a good climax to 

the play. 3 males, 7 females. Plays from 30 to 45 
minutes. Price, 35c. 

Jimmy's Ghosts 

By Cecil J. Richmond. A sketch for children. Five 
speaking parts with chorus of witches, '''an easily be 
given in any school room^. Price, 15c 

Scarecrows A -Roaming 

An eccentric drill. Price, 25c. 

What To Do on Hallowe'en 

Compiled by Juanita Mae Culp. This is a really good 
collection of helpful suggestions for this occasion. 
Suggestions for decorations, menus, parties, games, 
stunts, recipes, a play or two, and other good things. 
Purchasers will find themselves relieved from worry 
and troublef concerning Hallowe'en. Price, 40c. 

Fun With Fortune Telliiig 

Compiled by Mrs. G. ,L. Hanson. Here is a book that 
will furnish fun and interest for any social gathering. 
Every one is interested in their "fortune" and this 
book is arranged to give you pleasure, either individ- 
ually or as a crowd. Price, 50c. 



Eldridge Entertainment House 

FRANKLIN, OHIO also DENVER, COLO. 

944 S. Logan St. 



3^ 



The Trail Back Home 



A Comedy-Drama 

By 

ROSS FARQUflAR 

Author of "Anne of Ann Arbor," "Climbin' 
Through," etc. 



PRICE 35 CENTS 

Copyright 1922, Eldridge Entertainment House 



PUBLISHED BY 

ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE 

Franklin, Ohio Denver, Colo. 



CHARACTERS ^ /^"i^ 

George Williams — the country boy who would ^ (\ 
go to the city. , W 

Mr. Williams — George's pessimistic father. 

Mrs. WiLLiAMSr— just a mother. 

Jane Williams — George's sagacious sister. 

Hope Anderson — his sweetheart. 

Tom 1 

Bob ) — His pals. 

Joe J 

Vivian Rinehart — an authoress — ^mysterious. 

William Glass — a smooth one. 

Slippery Ike — a crook. 

F. G. Black — a salesman of oil stock. 

Alonzo — colored hotel clerk, bell boy, etc. 

Otis Spencer — a miserly money-lender. 



SUGGESTIONS 

The c^tumes should be those of present day country 
folk — plain, but not overdone. Bear in mind that the 
fanner of today is not a "hick." Alonzo, Glass and Slip- 
pery Ike should be dressed rather flashily, while Black 
is garbed in conventional business clothes. Vivian Rine- 
hart wears her clothes well and looks somewhat the Bo- 
hemian. 

It is desirable that the young folks be good singers, 
as the melodies, if sung well, will be a pleasing feature 
of the play. 

If desired, the following doubles, may be made: 
Spencer — Glass; Mr. Williams — Black; Bob — Policeman; 
and Hope or Jane — Vivian. 



©CI.D 63212 



.^(\ VJ 



lil . x^ ] 



The Trail Back Home 



ACT I. 

(Living room in the Williams country home. Ordi- 
nary furniture and furnishings. Calendars and cheap, 
colored pictures adorn the walls. Organ or piano at left 
front of stage. At rise of curtain, George is busy pack- 
ing a large suitcase with his belongings. Shirts, neck- 
ties, underwear, a comfort, etc., are piled on a chair.) 

George — I don't know how in the world I'm ever 
going to get all this junk into this suitcase. If money 
wasn't so scarce, I'd have me a reg'lar trunk. Then I 
could take everything I want — and all that mother wants 
me to take. But, as it is, I'm going to have to leave some- 
thing out, that's all there is to it. (Throtvs a feiv things 
to the floor on one side.) 

(Enter Mr. Williams, door right.) 

Mr. W. — How you comin', George? 

George — Rotten! I never knew I had so much 
stuff, and I never realized how small a suitcase is, till I 
^ried to pack my stuff in this one. 

Mr. W. — (loalking over to George) George, my boy, 
I think you're foolish to be leaving the farm, and espe- 
cially, the way things are in the city, just now. I 
see by tonight's paper that they have started the soup 
houses in lots of cities. 

George — Now, dad, you know very well that I never 
will be satisfied to stay on the farm. I ain't built for a 
farmer, any more than you are built for a poet. I guess 
I must take after mother's folks in that respect. She 
was born and raised in the city, and I guess I must have 
inherited the hahkerin' for it. 



The Trail Back Home 



Mr. W. — Well maybe so. How much money you got, 
George ? 

George — Sixty-eight dollars and a quarter — and 
then you said you'd take the Jersey heifer off of my 
hands at forty dollars — so that will give me a hundred 
and eight dollars. My car fare is $6.42, so I'll have over a 
hundred when I land there — and I reckon I won't starve 
on that; think so? 

Mr, W.^ — {whittling a match into a toothpick) Looks 
like you oughtn't to George. But I don't know how I'm 
going to raise that forty for you unless I take some of 
the money I been savin' to pay on the mortgage. I'd 
hoped you could stick around here till that was off of our 
hands — then the farm would be safe for us. 

George — {Laying his hand on his father's shoulder) 
Never you mind, dad. I'll see that the old mortgage gets 
lifted, all right. {Takes Mr. W. by both shoulders and 
turns hiyn to face him squarely.) Don't you belie've in 
me? 

Mr. W. — {hesitating) Yes — but — well, son, I guess 
I'm kind of queer — but the city always scares me silly. 
Anyhow, I'll get the money and let you have it — even if 
it is the same as throwin' it to the pigs. 

{Enter Mrs. W., wiping her hands on her apron.) 

Mrs. W. — How you gettin' along, sonny? 

George — Not so good, Mom. The blamed suitcase 
is too little. 

Mrs. W.— {Sees comfort on the floor) Aw, Georgie, 
can't you get this comfort in. You know it would come 
in powerful handy this winter — and winter ain't so very 
far away now. 

George — No, I just can't do it. By the time I get 
all my wearables in it's liable to bust wide open. 

Mr. W. — I'll bet a ton of timothy hay that you'll be 
mighty glad to get back here before three months is up. 

Geo. — {ivith confidence) Don't you believe it. Of 
course I want to come back and see you, and I'll miss all 



The Trail Back Home 



of you like blazes, but a city life's the life for me. I want 
to mix , with the fellows who are doing things — have a 
hand in the big things worth while. 

Mr. W. — {sarcastically) Well, be careful they don't 
do you, the first thing. 

Mrs. W. — Now, pa, don't go discouragin' the poor 
boy. He comes by this longing for the city honestly. My 
folks were city folks — and better folks never lived — and 
it was hard for me to get used to the farm. {Lays her 
hand on Mr. W.'s shoulder.) But I did m.anage to do it 
for you and the children. 

Mr. W. — {picking his teeth with the match) Yes, 
mother, I know you've had it pretty hard, and it's going 
to take a long time to pay you back — but maybe we can 
— some day — maybe. I don't know. 

Mrs. W. — Now, pa, don't get dramatical. I was — I 
was just — tellin' you not to be throwing cold water on 
the boy. George isn't going to the city to get swindled — 
are you, sonny? 

George — {smiling and putting his arm around her) 
Not on your life, mother. I'm going there for two rea- 
sons : First, I can't endure the farm ; second, I will be 
better able to help you folks if I can find work I really 
like — and — {determined.) and I'm going to. 

{There is a knock at door C. Mrs. W. opens the 
door. Enter Hope Anderson.) 

Hope — Good evening, everybody! 

{All return her greeting, George bashfully.) 

MrsI W. Take off your things, Hope. Are you all 
alone ? 

Hope — Father brought me over. He's on his way to 
the farm bureau meeting. Is Jane here? 

Mrs. W. — Yes, she's here. Is she the one you came 
to see? {Winks at George.) 

Hope — {embarrassed) Yes — of course — I — ah — I 
came to see all of you. 



T/ie Trail Back Home 



Mr. W. — Oh, yes, of course you did. We didn't 
think you came just to see George off, did we iftother? 
Say your pa went in to the farm bureau meeting, Hope? 
I can't for the life of me see why a farmer wants to waste 
his time on them things for. They ain't satisfied to 
farm the way our fathers used to farm — makes me sick. 
They'll get enough of it some day, though. 

(George and Hope exchange glances and George pro- 
ceeds with his packing.) 

(Enter Jane, eating an apple, R.) 

Jane — Hello, Hope! Glad you came over. Coms on 
upstairs with me. I want to show you the new catalogue 
of dresses I got today. 

Mrs. W. — Now, Jane, Hope didn't come over to look 
at your old catalogues. She can do that any time; can't 
you, Hope? 

Hope — ^^I — I suppose so. Yes, we have lots of cat- 
alogues at home. 

Jane — Oh, sure — I see. (Smiling mischievously.) 
I beg your pardon, Hope. 

Hope — (walking over to piano) Have you any new 
pieces, Jane? 

Jane — Oh, yes — I just got this one Saturday. (She 
shows a piece of music on the sentimental order.) Let's 
try it. 

Hope — All right. 

(One of the girls sits at the instrument and plays. 
Both sing.) 

(George stops his packing, looks at girls and wipes 
his eyes with the back of his hand.) 

GeorgE: — Sis, please cut that out. I don't like it. 

Jane — Why, George Williams! Don't like it? Why 
you said only yesterday, you thought it was simply swell. 
(To Hope) Ain't boys the limit? 

George — I did like it — yesterday. 

Jane — (teasing) Oh, I see what's the matter, 
Georgie boy. It makes him homesick, doesn't it? 



The Trail Back Home 



George— Aw, rats ! (Resumes packing.) 

(Honk of auto heard off stage and Tom, Bob and 
Joe are heard, singing, "Merrily We Roll Along," or some 
other old song, equally popular with young men. This 
may be made a pleasing feature if the boys are good 
singers, or funny if they care to burlesque it.) 

George — (going to door C.) Hi, there! Come on 
in, fellows. 

Voices — (outside) You bet your life we're coming 
in. 

{Enter Tom, Bob and Joe. They shake hands all 
around, and toss their hats on the piano and hang their*, 
overcoats on the back of a chair.) 

Tom — So you're going for sure, are you, George? 

George — Yep. 

(Boys sit down. Girls remain at the piano.) 

Bob — Gee! I wish I was in your place. 

Joe — Don't I, though? 

Tom — Not for me. The old farm's good enough for 
me, where I'm sure of three square meals per, and a good 
warm bed to sleep in. 

George — Oh, you fellows make me tired. You talk as 
if nobody ever sleeps or eats only farmers. Wait till I 
make good and I'll show you how to sleep and eat and — 

Mr. W. — (laughing) You can already do that, I 
think. 

Bob- — You want to look out for these city sharpers, 
George. 

Joe — -And the bobbed-haired flappers and the vamps. 

(George glances quickly at Hope and smiles.) 

George — I guess I'm old enough and big enough to 
hold my own with the sharpers, all right. 

Joe — But how about the vamps? 

Jane — He's been vamped, already; so maybe he's 
immune. 

(Hope claps her hand over Jane's mouth.) 



The Trail Back Home 



Mrs. W. — Wouldn't you all like a little sweet cider 
and some doughnuts? 

Mr, W. — Sure they would — wouldn't you, folks? 

Tom — Well, it wouldn't go bad, I guess, as far as I 
am concerned. 

Jane — (as Mrs. W. rises.) Here, mother, Hope and 
I will go down and get it. You sit down. 

Mrs. W. — All right. Do you know where to find the 
doughnuts ? 

Jane — Yes — I found them already. (Jane and Hope 
go Old R.) 

Joe — What time does your train leave, George? 

George — Nine-fifty-six. We'll have to leave here 
about nine o'clock. 

Tom — Oh, we'll take you over in the flivver in ten 
minutes. 

Mr. W. — I was going to hitch up a,nd drive him over. 
You can't always trust these flivvers to get you there on 
time. 

Tom — You can trust this one. And it's all set rarin' 
to go. 

Mrs. W. — That's mighty good of you, I think — and 
that way, George won't have to leave so soon. (Surrep- 
titiottsly tvipes a tear with a corner of her apron.) 

(Enter Hope and Jane with cider and doughnuts. 
The glasses of cider and the doughnuts are parsed 
around. Mr. W. goes to drawer of desk or table and takes 
out box and counts out money and hands it to George.) 

Tom — (as Mr. W. gives money to George) Gee! 
you must be anxious to get rid of him — spaying him to 
go away. 

George — Maybe he thinks it's good riddance. 

Mrs. W. — Now, George, you know better than that. 
Boys, pa was just buying the Jersey heifer from him. 

Mr. W. — Yes, paying for my own stock. Boys are 



The Trail Back Home 



not like they used to be when I was young. We didn't 
claim half the stock from our fathers, 

Joe — I'm glad I live in these days, then. I don't be- 
lieve I'd care to stay on the farm and see nothing for my 
work. i » 

Hope — Tom, can't you play the piano? 

George — Can he play? I'll say he can play. 

Jane — Well, come on then, and sit down and play, 
won't you? 

Tom — {crossing over to the piano) What do you 
want me to play? 

Hope — Can you play "L'Esprit Francais"? 

Tom — (perplexed) Wha — what? 

Hope — I asked if you could play L'Esprit Francais. 

Tom — Why, I can't even say it — let alone play it. 
- Jane — While Tom plays, George will sing. 

Mrs. W.— Yes, George, sing, won't you. 

George^ — Oh, mother, I don't feel like singing to- 
night. 

Joe — ^I see how it is. George is leaving home tonight, 
you know, taking the trail out into the cold, cruel world. 
Leaving his paternal domicile doesn't make him feel like 
singing, naturally. Then, George, if you'll just sing a 
little, it will make you feel better; then you won't mind 
leaving home. Consequently, of course, you won't mind 
singing. So let 'er go! 

Mr. W.^ — (looking intently at Joe) What was that? 

Tom — Don't ask him. He couldn't say it the same 
way again, if he tried. 

Joe — (throwing out his chest) That is what you 
call "logic." Before you ask me, I'll tell you what logic 
is, then you will understand. Logic is the science of the 
laws of thought, as thought ; that is, to make it perfectly 
clear, of the necessary conditions to which thought, con- 
sidered in itself, is subject. 



10 The Trail Back Home 



Bob — It doesn't sound logical to me. 

Hope — Won't you sing, George — just once? 

George — Oh, well, I suppose I'll have to. 

Tom — Let's have "Old Black Joe" — (or any other 
familiar melody) . 

George — No, let's sing "The Old Oaken Bucket." 

Tom — I can't play that new-fangled music. 

George — Well, you play whatever you like, and I'll 
sing what I want to sing. 

(// Tom can play one song and George sing another, 
the effect will he ludicrous.) 

(As they sing, Mr. W. bloivs his nose frequently ; 
Mrs. W. wipes an occasional tear with the corner of her 
aqjrori; Hope gazes fondly at George, while he, in turn, 
looks at her affectionately, during the song.) 

Bob — (after the song) Now, George, when you get 
to the city, don't forget to write every day to your 
friends — especially one of your friends. (Looks at Hope, 
who appears embarrassed.) 

Tom — And if you go and get chummy with some 
city girl, don't ever let h^r get the upper hand and take 
advantage of your lack of sophistication. Take a tip 
from yours truly, and start right. 

George — A lot you know about governing the other 
sex. Why dont you get a girl and rule her — if you are so 
wonderfully wise, and all that? 

Tom- — That's the reason — because I'm wise. I know 
how to manage them, but I don't want to go to all the 
trouble and expense. I'll stay here on the farm and drive 
mules. Nevertheless, I can give you some good tips. 

Hope — Well, Tom, tell us some of the things you 
would do, should the occasion arise. 

Tom — Well, the first thing a man should do is to as- 
sert himself right off the reel. Every woman admires a 
masterful man. You got to make her realize that she is 
only a Rib, while you are IT. 



The Trail Back Home 11 

JoE>— Cave man stuff. Treat 'em rough and tell 'em 
nothing. 

ToM: — No, not that, but plenty of intellect. Don't 
ever let her think she is the whole thing. Neglect her 
occasionally. When out in public, let her catch you cast- 
ing occasional glances of admiration at other ladies. 
That'll make her appreciate your good taste and your 
broad mind. 

Mr. W. — {drily) Tom, I believe you had better 
stick to the mules. Your rules are a bachelor's rules, but 
any married man who adopts a code like that, will make 
a complete wreck of marriage. 

Jane — {interrupting) I don't want to hurry you, 
boys; but if you are going to catch the train, you had 
better be moving. 

George — {glancing at his ivatch) Yes, folks, I guess 
I'll have to be going. It'll soon be train time. 

Tom — {goes to Jane's side and talks to her) Jane, 
if it's all the same to you, I believe I'll wait here for Bob 
and Joe to come back. 

Jane — Surely^it doesn't make the slightest differ- 
ence to me. 

Tom — {eagerly) All right. {Then wonderingly .) 
You say it makes no difference to you — whether I go or 
stay? 

Jane — {nods her head in the affirmative.) 
Tom — Then I guess — . Don't you want me to stay, 
Jane ? 

{Jane walks across the stage to George.) 
Hope — (to Tom) Of course, she wants you to stay, 
silly boy. With all your knowledge of femininity, can't 
you read a girl's mind enough to know that? But, Tom- 
my, listen — don't try to put your theories into practice. 
{The boys prepare to leave. Mr. and Mrs. W. loipe 
more tears.) 

Tom — {to Hope) Oh, I can read 'em, all right — . 



12 The Trail Back Home 

but — well — Hope, you know — ah — you see Jane is differ- 
ent. 

Hope — (laughing) Oh, you boys! Yes, I know she 
is different — to you, at least. (To Bob.) Say, Bob, 
can't you take me in your flivver and drop me off at 
home? 

George — Of course, he can. We'll be glad to have 
you. (In lower tone.) I will, anyway. 

(All but George and Hope go out center.) 

Hope — Will you really be glad? 

GEORGE: — Really and truly. (Takes her hand and 
talks earnestly.) Say, Hope, you believe in me, don't 
you? Don't you think I'll make good? 

Hope — Why, — yes, I — of course, I believe in you, 
George. I always have. 

George — And you don't think I'm crazy, and all 
that, because I want to leave the dull old farm and strike 
out for myself in the city, where the big things are? 

Hope — (ivith a smile) Well — it's not my place to 
dictate to you — not yet. 

George — Why, Hope, little girl, I want you to dic- 
tate to me — ^always. I'd ask you to go with me now, only 
you see, I haven't anything to offer but myself. 

Hope — Don't you think that's a great deal for a man 
to offer? I do. 

George — True — it is a great deal, maybe. But I'm 
not quite conceited enough to think for one minute that 
any sensible girl would take me^ — just for myself. Now, 
promise me, Hope, that you'll wait for me to make good. 
Will you? 

Hope — Yes — if you don't change your mind in the 
meantime. 

George — I'll assure you there's no danger of my 
mind changing. 

Hope — (smiling) Now, George, you're just like all 
young men. You meet one girl and you think she is the 



The Trail Back Home 13 

perfect one — the only one. Later you go out into the 
world, as you are doing now, and you me-et another, and 
you decide she is the real and only one. And like Solo- 
mon of old, you go^ — on and on — experimenting and be- 
lieving that some day you will really find her — maybe you 
will — (coquettishhj) but I hope you don't. 

George — Fear not. I'm settled as far as that is con- 
cerned. You promise? 

Hope— Yes, I promise — if you still think this way 
when you return. 

George — (taking her hand in both of his) Hope, 
I'm happy. I'm so happy, I — 

{Loud, voices outside. Boh, Tom, Joe, Mr. and Mrs. 
W. and Jane enter C.) 

Joe — For the love of Mike, George, do you want us 
to freeze to death? 

Bob — We thought you were ready to go, and here 
you stand, talking to Hope. Isn't she going with us? 

Jane — I guess he thinks this is his last "hope." 

Tom — I think it is. 

Mr. W. — We don't want to rush you, son, but you 
know the train won't wait. 

George — {laughing happily) Yes, yes, we're com- 
ing. 

Mrs. W. — Now, be sure and write as soon as you get 
there. 

Jane— And send me a piece of sheet music once in 
a while. 

Hope — And think of us back here, occasionally. 

Bob — Why drag in the "us"? You mean he should 
think of you; don't you? 

Hop&— Well— I— 

Tom — Don't you worry — he will. 

Joe — Well, are you all ready? I'll go crank the ma- 
chine. {Exit C.) 



14 The Trail Back Home 

(George kisses Mrs. W., shakes hand loith Mr. W., 
Tom and Jane.) 

George — Well, good-bye, folks. I'll write — and I'll 
be home for Christmas. 

(Exeunt George, Hope and Bob. Mr. and Mrs. W., 
Jane and Tom are grouped at door C. Honk of auto is* 
heard off stage and boys sing "Good-night Ladies," the 
song growing gradually fainter as though farther and 
farther away and finally out of hearing as curtain de- 
scends slowly.) 

CURTAIN 



ACT II 

(Time — One iveek later than Act I.) 

(Scene- — Lobby of a cheap city hotel. Cle7'k's desk 
and door at left. As curtain rises lobby apparently is- 
empty. Sound of loud snoring is heard. After a lapse 
of a few moments, enter Vivian Rinehart, C. She looks 
inquiringly around and finally looks over the top of the 
desk. She smiles and reaches over and puUs Alonzo's' 
hair. He has been asleep behind the desk.) 

Alonzo — (loudly) Ouch! (He jumps up and rubs 
his eyes.) I'se gonna bust — Oh, I begs you' excuses, 
Miss — Miss Swinehart. I thought — 

Vivian — Rinehart, not Swinehaict. 

Alonzo — Yes, Miss Rinehart. Does you desiah 
some service f'um de faculty of dis heah ho'-tel? 

Vivian — I do. 

Alon. — Which is what? 

Vivian — I want a clean towel, a wash cloth, a cake 
of soap, some — 

Alon.^ — Say, Miss Frihart, is you-all got a calendah 
up in yo' room? 

ViviAN: — A calendar? 

Alon. — Yes'm a calendah. One o' dose inst-mints 



The Trail Back Home 15 

which is got de numbahs o' de days in a month 'stributed 
all 'round ovah de outside ci'cumference. 

Vivian — ^Yes, I have one — why? 

Alon. — Well, you jes' go treat yo'se'f to a glimpse 
at it an' you all will observe dis am Chewsday — not Sat- 
'day. 

Vivian — What are you raving about? I know it's 
Tuesday. 

Alon. — Well, f um de way you was requestin', I 
got*de idee you-all had de impression dis was a Sat'day. 

Vivian — Tuesday or Saturday, get those things up 
to my room. {Exit left.) 

Alon.^ — imumhling) Talk about queer-actin' per- 
sons. Dese writin' people sho' is got de worl' beat. Tow- 
els! Wash rags! Soap! Nex' thing we know she'll be 
washin' her teef. {Exit left.) 

{Enter Glass, C. Walks to desk and raps on it.) 

{Enter Alonzo L. Stands and looks at Glass.) 

Glass— Well? 

Alon. — Yes, sah, tol'able. 

Glass — You ought to be, if rest helps any. 

Alon. — {serioitsly) It sho' does. 

Glass — Give me my key — and make it snappy. 

Alon. — Which — de key? 

Glass — No, the — say, Lonzo, don't try to get funny 
with me. I'm not in the humor for jokes. 

Alon. — Isn't de ponies runnin' de way you wants 
'em to? 

Glass — I should say they didn't today. I lost every 
bet I made. There's something funny about the way I 
win and lose. For the last month I have been winning 
one day and losing the next. So I break just about ejven. 

Alon. — ^Would you-all a'cept a siggestion f'um me? 

Glass — That depends. But let's have it. 

Alon.: — You says you wins one day an' loses de nex'? 



16 The Trail Back Home 

Glass — Yes. 

Alon. — Well, why doesn't you-all jes' play 'em every 
othah day? Den you'll be ahead — 'way ahead. 

Glass — (disgusted) You have a wonderful head on 
you, sonny. 

Alon. — Tanks. (Hands him key.) Heah's yo' key. 
Glass — Have you seen our country boy lately? 

Alon.^ — He lef heah a few seconds ago. Ascended up 
to his room, I reckon. 

Glass — Does he hang around the lobby much? 

Alon. — A good bit, sah. 

Glass — How does he act when he's alone? 

Alon. — I don't know. 

Glass — Why don't you know? 

Alon. — 'Cause I ain't nevah been wid him when he's 
alone. 

Glass — Blockhead! If you — 0h-h-(h! — ^here he 
comes ! Duck ! 

(Alonzo disappears back of desk.) 

(Enter George, looking downhearted.) 

Glass — How do you do, Williams? 

George — Howdy. 

Glass — Well, have you had any luck? 

George — Not much. Nobody seems to want me very 
bad. They all take my name and address, and tell me 
they will call on me if they need help. I'm almost ready 
to hit the trail back to the old farm. (Pause.) But I 
hate it. 

Glass — I would think so. Well, Williams, I wish you 
were interested in my line of work. I could put you to 
work in a jiffy. We need men badly. 

George — (interested) What kind of work is that? 

Glass — Detective work. But — of course, you would- 
n't care for that sort of a job. 



The Trail Back Home 17 

George — {enthusiastically) Wouldn't I? Just you 
give me a chance, and see if I wouldn't. 

Glass — (seriously) It is no snap. Lots of hard 
work — and — dangerous — sometimes. 

George — Why, ever since I was big enough to read 
Nick Carter and Old Sleuth, I've wanted to be a detect- 
ive, but I didn't suppose I'd ever have the chance. Tell 
me about it, Mr. Glass. 

Glass— Let's sit down. (They sit on chairs at rea/r.) 
The chief told me only this morning, that if I could find 
a good, steady, energetic young man, to put him on. We 
are getting so busy our force can't handle the work. 

George — Really? I never knew you were a detect- 
ive. 

Glass— Of course, as you can readily see, we are not 
permitted to advertise it. Why even Lonzo doesn't know 
— (Walks to desk and peers over the top.) He's asleep. 
Evqn Lonzo does not know what business I am in, and I 
have been putting up here for a year. (Pulls vest open, 
displaying large star.) See that? That little piece of 
silver makes the crooks open their eyes when I nab them. 
This is a captain's star. 

G'EOEGE— (enthusiastically) Gee! What would I 
have to do to be a real detective ? 

Glass — Well, you'd have to study awhile, in order to 
familiarize yourself with the laws most frequently bro- 
ken. It's amazing, the number of people who break laws 
and get away with it. And that's why we need more 
men. I cleaned up twenty-four dollars yesterday. One 
fellow for smoking in the court house; one for throw- 
ing waste paper in the street ; and one for spitting on the 
sidewalk. Got eight dollars apiece for the arrests. It's 
nothing to pick up thirty to forty dollars on a good day. 

George — (astonished) Are all those things against 
the law? 

Glass — Yes — and I could tell you dozens of other 
things, too. This little book (taking book from pocket) 



18 The Trail Back Home 

tells everything: tells you what to arrest them for, how 
to arrest them, how to place the charge, and everything 
a detective needs to know. 

George — Could you let me use it? 

Glass — Why, sure, if you're really interested. 

George — I certainly am. 

Glass — Of course, we require a deposit as a guaran- 
tee of good faith. Then, when you are through with the 
book you return it and get your money refunded. The 
badge is yours as long as you remain in the service. 

George — (anxiously) What is required as a depos- 
it, on the book? 

Glass — Eighty dollars is all. 

George — (whistling softly) I guess that puts me 
out of the running. 

Glass— Why? 

George^ — Well, I had only about a hundred dollars 
when I landed here, and my board and room and laundry 
has taken quite a bunch of it, not to mention a picture 
show, now and then. I have only about seventy dollars 
left. 

Glass — (In deep study. Walks the floor a few mo- 
ments.) Williams, you look like an honest boy, and I'm 
willing to take a chance and depart from the regular pro- 
cedure in this case, because I believe you are the man for 
the place. So I'll tell you what I'll do. If you want to 
try for the force, I'll give you a badge and let you have 
the Manual of Instructions. And we'll cut the deposit to 
sixty-five dollars. I'll have to give you a receipt for the 
full amount, eighty dollars, in order to have it look reg- 
ular. Then, out of your first few rewards, you can hand 
me the other fifteen dollars. What do think of that? 

George — (after a moment's consideration) I'll do 
it. (Takes loallet from pocket and counts out money.) 
Here's the money — sixty-five dollars. 

Glass^ — (Writes receipt.) Now, don't ever men- 



The Trail Back Home 19- 

tion to anybody that I let you in for less than eighty dol- 
lars. We are not supposed to do it. {Hands George the 
book and pins a star on his coat, binder the lapel.) Here's 
success to you. 

George — How can I ever repay you? 

Glass — (magnanimously) Don't mention it, young 
man ; I'm only too glad to be able to help you a little. 

George — I'll pay you the balance as soon as possible, 
Mr. Glass. 

Glass — That's all right, Williams. Gentlemen can 
trust each other. 

(Exit George, L.) 

Glass — (pacing floor) Pretty soft. Guess I better 
change boarding houses, now. It might not be pleasant 
around here — ^when the rube comes to. 

(Enter Slippery Ike, C. He tvears a false mus~ 
tache.) 

Ike— (looking cautiously around) Hello, Glass. 

GLASS: — Howdy, Ike. 

Ike — Any luck? 

Glass — A little. Enough to hold over for a few days 
until something bigger turns up. Know anything? 

Ike — I've got a good prospect for tonight. 

Glass — Well, you can tell me about it later. I must 
go get my grip and get out of here before my latest vic- 
tim gets wise to me. I'll be down in a jiffy. (Exit L.) 

Ike — I wonder how much he got. (Looks around 
the lobby.) This would be an easy place to rob, but I 
don't think it would pay. ( Walks to desk and peers over 
the top. Sees Alonzo and draws back quickly. Takes a) 
chair and picks up a newspaper to read.) 

(Enter George, L., reading book.) 

George — Won't dad be surprised when I tell him of 
this? They used to make fun of me down home when I 
talked about being a detective. But I'll show them now, 
I guess. (Spies Slippery Ike and gazes at him.) 



20 The Trail Back Home 

{Alonzo's head appears above desk. He rubs his 
eyes and yawns long and luxuriously, letting out a pro- 
longed "Ah-h-h-h.") 

Ike — (Throws paper on floor, rises and moves to-, 
wcbrd desk.) Give me a good cigar. ' ' \ 

Alon.— Done sol' it. 

lKB-:^What? i 

ALON.—Doiie sol' it. 

Ike— Sold what? 

Alon. — De see'-gar. :^ 

IkE: — What cigar? 

Alon. — De onliest one we had. 
• Ike— Well, of all the cheap joints! (Spits on floor.) 

(George, who has not taken his eyes from Ike, now 
moves quickly to his side and slaps him on the shoulder.) 

George — I'll trouble you to come with me, Mister. 

Ike— Just what do you mean by that, sonny? 

George — (showing star) I mean, you're arrested. 
I'm a detective. 

Ike — (leering) Oh, you're a detective, are you? 
(Sizes George up, from head to foot.) Now, who told 
you that ? 

George — Never you mind who told me that. You 
come along with me. 

Ike — If it's any of my business, what am I pindied 
for? . 

^ George — For spitting on the floor in a public place. 

Ik& — (laughing heartily) Eun along, little boy, or 
I'll have the gentleman behind the counter toss you out. 
I'd do it myself, only I play so rough sometimes. (Tries 
to free himself, but George quickly secures a "hold" and 
after a^hort struggle, leads hirn out.) 

Alon.— (showing . head above desk, with a puzzled 

' expi'essiononhis face.) What you know 'bout dat? I 

nevah 'sirriilated 'bout him being: a detective. Gee! He 



The Trail Back Home 21 

might ha' pinched me fo' snorin' in a hotel house. Guess 
I bettah watch out, f um now on in de future. 

(Enter F. G. Black, C, carrying grip.) 

BlacK: — (walking to desk and looking around) Well, 
Where's the register? 

Alon. — Done tuk it to de shop an' it ain't been re- 
tu'ned back yit. 

Black — Took it to the shop? 

Alon. — Yas suh — to de shop — de fixin' shop, where 
dey repairs up things. 

Black — Took what to the shop? 

Alon.— De cash registah. De boss say it was git- 
tin' to leak. 

Black — I mean your hotel , register — the book. I 
want to get a room. 

Alon. — Well, you-all can have a room, I reckon — 
widout de necessity of a book. 

BLACK: — Have you one with a bath? 

Alon. — Not today. 

Black — ^What do you mean — not today? 

Alon. — We only has got hot watah in de baff room 
on Sat'day. Dis is only Chewsday. 

Black — Well, give me a room, then — the best you 
have. 

Alon. — (reaching for key) Numbah nineteen. Up- 
stairs, two flights and turn to yo' right hand side. 

{Exit Black, L. passing Glass in doorway.) 
Glass — (looking around as if in search of someone) 
Did you see anything of a young fellow in here, Lonzo? 
Alon.— Which kind of a fellow? 
Glass— Tall and slender, with a black mustache. 
Alon. — Yas^suh, I suttiniy has. ■ ^ 

Glass — ^Where did he go?. 
Alon. — (calmly) To de jailhbuse. . 



22 The Trail Back Home 

Glass — (excitedly) To jail? 

Alon. — (polishing nails on coat sleeve) Yas, suh — 
to de jail house. 

Glass — Who took him? 

Alon. — A po'-lice. 

Glass — (in consternation) What was the charge? 

Alon. — Spittin' on de floor. 

Glass — (enlightened) Oh, yes, a detective, you 
mean. Who was this detective? Did you know him? 

Alon. — Sho' I knowed 'im. De young fellow from 
de country, which is stayin' heah at de ho'-tel. 

(Glass laughs heartily, and finally drops into chair, 
holding his sides.) 

Glass — (subsiding) That's pretty good. 

Alon.— What's dat? 

Glass — Oh, nothing. 

Alon. — Oh, yes. (Yaums.) 

Glass — (rising and coming to desk) What's my bill, 
Lonzo? I've got to leave for Frisco tonight. 

Alon. — (counting on his fingers) One, two, three, 
fo', five, six, seven, eight — eight times a dollah and a 
half is — (Takes pencil from pocket and figures on pa- 
per) — eight times one and a half equals twelve — that's 
right — twelve even dollars. 

Glass — (counting out money) Here you are. (He 
hands Alonzo the money.) 

(Enter Black, R. He sits down without speaking.) 

Alon. — Thanks, Mistah Glass. Come in aga^in, if 
you is evah in town. 

Glass — Yes. (Aside.) I'll wait here a few min- 
utes, until Ike gets back — but — maybe I better not, eith- 
er. Oh, well, even if the hick is along, I can stall hirau 
off. 

Alon. — (to Black) Hey, mistah, what's yo' name? 

Black— F. G. Black. 



The Trail Ba ck Home 28 

r _ ' — 

Alon. — (luriting) F. G. B-1-a-c-k — Black . What's 
yo' business, Mistah Black? 

Black — (looking sharply at Alonzo for a moment) 
None of yours. 

Alon. — Huh ? 

Black — {with sarcasm) I say, my business is my 
own business. 

Alon. — Sho' it is. 

Black — {rises and hands Alonzo a card) Well, if 
you really want to know, I am representing the Black 
Star Oil Company. Wouldn't you like to invest a hun- 
dred dollars and clean up a thousand in a couple of 
weeks ? 

Alon.- — {enthusiastically) Well I should say I sut- 
tinly would. 

Black — {ready for action) Well, suppose we talk 
business. 

Alon. — Isn't no use. 

Black— Why not? 

Alon. — I only got fifty cents. I'm married. 

Black — {turning away) Good-night! 

{Enter George, hurriedly, C. Looks around. Sees 
Glass and rtishes toioard him. Glass tries to get away, 
but George grabs and holds him.) 

Glass — Let go. I'm in a big hurry — see you in a 
few minutes. {He makes further ineffectual attempts to 
esca/pe George.) 

George — But wait, until I tell you of the wonderful 
arrest I just made. I saw. — 

Glass — {excitedly) I tell you, I got to go. 

George — Well, you can go, but I want to settle with 
you before you do. 

Glass— Why, you can't prove anything on me. I 
gave you a book and a badge for your money, and — 

George — Of course you did, and that's what I want 



24 The Trail Back Home 

to settle for. I still owe you fifteen dollars, and (He 
reaches in his pocket, taking out bills, and hands thet 
money to Glass.) — ^here it is. 

Glass — (puzzled) But — I thought — 

George — I arrested a fellow here in the lobby a few 
minutes ago for spitting on the floor, and took him down 
to the police station. Just as I got him inside, he tried 
to duck away from me and in catching him I pulled off 
his false mustache. Right away the Captain recognized 
him as Slippery Ike, for whom a reward of twelve hun- 
dred dollars was offered. They want him over in Penn- 
sylvania for cracking safes. The Captain gave me' two 
hundred in cash and a check for a thousand dollars. So 
how can I ever thank you, Mr. Glass, for starting me in 
the business? 

Glass — Don't bother thanking me — let me go. 

George — Just a minute. The captain told me this 
Slippery Ike has a pal and if I can land him I can get 
another thousand. He's going to get me a picture of him 
this afternoon. 

(Glass is thoroughly frightened, and jerks away, 
almost falling to the floor as George releases him, then 
rushes out C.) 

George— Gee! He acts queer. I wonder why he was 
in such a hurry to get away. Oh, I suppose he's work- 
ing on a big case some place. (Sticks thumbs in vest, 
throivs out his chest and struts around the stage.) Going 
some ! 

Black— ^(wai/cs over to George) Young man, I 
want to congratulate you on your good work. My natoie is 
F. G. Black, of the Black Star Oil Company. (Shakes 
hands with George.) 

George — My name is George Williams, detective. 

Black — Well, that's a mighty fine business for a 
young man,- and there's lots of money in it, too, it seems. 

George — Well, it seems to be paying pretty well, so 
far. " ' . : . 



The Trail Back Home 25 

Black — How long have you been at it? ! 

George— I just started today. 

Black — Fine! Do you invest your money? 

George — Well^not yet. I haven't had time to think 
about that. 

Black — Possibly you will not do quite this well ev- 
ery day, so you ought to be very careful how you invest 
this money. Why a thousand dollars, if invested ju- 
..diciously, would put you on easy street for the rest of 
your life. I have in mind a poor old woman who took in 
washings for a living, owned a little cottage and a cow. 
She had saved up a hundred dollars from years of hard 
work. She was persuaded to sell her house and invest 
her money in Black Star stock, and now she doesn't have 
to wash and she lives in a large brick residence. 

George — -And doesn't wash any more? 

Black — No, sir. {Aside.) She's in the poor house, 
scrubbing floors. 

George — What kind of stock is this Black Star? 

Black — The only stock paying five hundred per cent 
dividends; the stock that is making millionaires hourly. 
It is indeed regrettable that there is so little of it left. 
If we had a million shares we could sell it without half 
trying. But as it is we have only one hundred shares left. 

George — {interested) How much does a share cost? 

Black — Ten dollars. 

George — Well, I wouldn't mind taking a chance on 
about— 

Black — About what? 

George — On— maybe one share. 

Black — {smiling) I wish I could s^ll you one share 
but you'd be so sore at yourself ■ — and me — inside of a 
week, that you'd want to shoot me and drown yourself 
for not buying all you could get. Even a ten-dollar 
share would pay you a dividend of fifty dollars a year — 
probably m©re. But I am waiting to see a, customer wlio 



26 The Trail Back Home 

wants one hundred shares. Of course, this man has 
quite a block of our stock already, and if you cared to in- 
vest in the stock, I could explain the circumstances to 
him. I'd like to see the stock go to some young fellow 
like you. Wouldn't a five thousand dollar income seem 
pretty nice to you? 

George — I'll say it would. I wouldn't mind living 
on the farm with an income like that. 

Black — Well, I'm glad I met you. I guess I'll be 
going now. (Hesitates.) You don't think you'd like 
to— 

George — Well, if you'll wait till I get this check 
cashed, I might — 

Black — Don't let that bother you. You can en- 
dorse it and I'll attend to the rest. 

George — {hesitating) You're sure there is no pos- 
sible chance of losing on this proposition? 

Black — I give you my word of honor. 

George — Well, I'll do it. Where's the stock? 

Black — (looks at check and puts it in his pocket) 

George — (looking at certificates) Nice paper and 
a good job of printing. I worked in a printing shop for 
over a month. 

Black- — I don't want to hurry you, but I have quite 
a lot of business to attend to, so if you will sign — 

George — Sure. (Endorses check and hands it to 
Black.) 

BLACK' — (Looks at check and puts it in his pocket.) 
Thank you. — Oh, yes, one more little detail. There is 
a slight charge for registration of the stock, etc., in order 
to make you absolutely safe. I had almost forgotten that. 

George — How much is that? 

Black — Only one dollar per share. One hundred 
shares for you — amounting to just one hundred dollars. 

George — (slowly counting out the money) Pretty 
.steep. 



The Trail Back Home 27 

Black — (pocketing the money and handing the cer- 
tificates to George) But just think. 

{They shake hands.) 

Black — (moving toivard door L.) Good-bye, and 
success to you. 

George — ^Good-bye, and thank you. 

Black — You're entirely welcome. (Exit L.) 

(Loud snore is heard. After a few moments, Alon- 
zo's head appears above desk. He yaivns.) 

Alon. — Does my sleepin' bother you-all, Mistah? 

George — Does it bother me? What do you meian? 

Alon. — Dey say I's a awful loud sleeper. I scare 
my own self sometimes. Jes' now woke up myself wid 
a big one. 

(Enter Vivian L.) 

Vivian — Alonzo, is there any mail for me? 

Alon. — (looking through pile of letters) No'm, 
dey is not. 

Vivian — That's queer. Well, if a letter should come, 
will you please sand it up immediately? 

Alon. — -Yes'm. 

(Exit Vivian, L.) 

Geo — (approaching desk) Who is the lady, Lonzo? 

Alon.: — Dat's Miss Kindhart. 

George — Miss who? 

Alon. — Miss — No, dat aren't it. It's— it's — oh,— 
yes — Miss Rinehart. Miss Vivian Rinehart. 

George — Does she stay here? 

Alon. — She suttinly do. She cain't git away. 

George — Why not? 

Alon. — Us has got her trunks garnished. 

George — You mean garnisheed? 

Alon. — Same thing — on'y I nevah was strong on de 
French pronounciation. 



28 The Trail Back Home 

George — ^^But why have you attached her trunks? 

Alon.- — She owes us. 

George — What is her business? 

Alon. — She claims to write stuff — stories and nov- 
els, and all dat kind o' stuff. But she is de mysteriousest 
female lady I evah seen. 

George — Oh, is she an authoress? 

Alon.^ — :I don' know whether she is a — a — da/t 
thing which you jes' called her — or not. But she writes 
stuff. 

George — Does she sell it? 

Alon. — I don't reckon she do. An' no wondah! 

George — Why? 

Alon.^ — Can you-all keep a secret? 

George — Certainly, 

Alon. — Well, she writes tons of- stuff and sends it 
off to de newspapers and editors — but it all comes back. 

George — But why? 

Alon. — She's tryin' to cheat, but she cain't git by. 

George — Cheat? How? 

Alon. — Jes' cause dese stories she writes up is not 
real. She goes and makes 'em up outen her own mind. 
Dat's why so. 

George — (laughs) How long has she been here? 

Alon. — (scratching his head) Le's see. She ar- 
rove heah on de day I got a haircut and baff. She's been 
heah jes' one day less'n three weeks now. 

George — Well — I think I'll go to my room and read 
awhile. Is there any mail for me? 

Alon. — Uh huh. They's a postal card f'um yo' sis- 
tah. (Hands George card.) 

(Enter Vivian, L. Sits near rear of stage and be- 
gins to read.) 

(Enter policeman, C. Approaches desk.) 



The Trail Back Home 29 

Policeman — Is there a man here registered under 
the name of Black? F. G. Black? 

(Vivian and George show interest.) 

Alon. — ^Yes suh, dey is. 

PoLiCEMAN^ — Can you tell me where I can find him? 

Alon. — Room nineteen. Two flights up and turn to 
yo' right han' side. 

Policeman — ^May I go up? 

Alon. — Yes, suh. 

(Exit Policeman, L.) 

George — What do you suppose he wants with him? 
(Takes papers from his pocket and examines them anx- 
iously.) 

Alon.: — Mebby he's a murderer, or a kidnaper, or a 
bootlegger, or sumpin' of de sort or other. 

Vivian — Or a gold brick man, or an oil salesman, or 
a forger — 

George — (excitedly) Oil salesman — ^that's what he 
is. 

Vivian — Are you sure? 

George — Positive. 

Vivian — What company? 

George — The Black Star. 

Vivian — r (smiles knowingly) Well, well — that is 
fine. 

George — Don't think me rude or inquisitive, but 
would you mind telling me just what you mean? 

Vivian — Well, young fellow, steer clear of him. He 
looks like a smooth one' — and these cheap hotels are their 
most prolific fields for suckers. 

George — (excitedly) Why, I bought — 

Vivian — You bought some of the stock? 

George — (desperately) Yes. 

Vivian — Not much, I hope. 

George — A thousand dollars worth. 



30 The Trail Back Home 

Vivian — Great heavens ! Well, you're lucky that of- 
ficer came in before the crook got out — lucky indeed. You 
are from the country, aren't you? 

George — Yes. Do I show it so plain? 

ViviAN^ — I'm from the country, myself, and it's not 
so hard to recognize my kind — while they're still fresh. 

George — Fresh is right, although "green" might be 
a better adjective in my case. 

Vivian — Oh, you'll be all right after a while. But 
you'll have to be careful. You mustn't trust any sjtran- 
gers. 

George — But you're a stranger, and you look trust- 
worthy. 

ViviAN: — Well — don't trust strangers. 

George — But why shouldn't I trust you? 

Vivian — Because, if I had a real good opportunity^ 
I might swindle you worse than this oil man has tried to 
do. 

George — Why — I don't get you? 

Vivian — Well — be on your guard — I'm willing to 
take a chance at marriage, if I should find the ideal man. 

George — (showing interest) What is your ideal of 
a man? 

Vivian — A peaceable, easy-going fellow, surrounded 
by money and a six cylinder oar. 

George — That being the case, I can drop my guard. 
But, aren't you afraid a husband would interfere with 
your work? 

Vivian — My work? No, not yet. 

George — What do you mean? 

Vivian — Well — work is something I am going to do 
— some day — but I think I will struggle against it a lit- 
tle longer. 

(Enter Policeman, L.) 

Policeman — He's gone. 

George — Who's gone? 



The Trail Back Home 31 

Policeman — Black. 

(George is stupified. Vivian wrikles her brow in 
thought. Alonzo smiles broadly.) 

Alon. — Dat's lucky. 

George — Lucky ? 

Alon.- — Yes suh. He ain't et any meals offen dis 
ho'-tel. 

George — How did he get out? 

Policeman — Through a window. I hope he didn't 
sting anybody here. 

George — (sadly) He got me. Isn't the stock any 
good? 

Policeman — I should say not. The entire property 
of the company consists of four acres of land with one 
drill on it. But they have cleaned up about a hnudred 
thousand on it. 

George — (despairingly) And Christmas only a few 
weeks away. I wonder if I'll have carfare home. 

Vivian — Officer, where is this oil land? 

Policeman — In Wichita county, Texas. 

Vivian — Do you suppose I could get a list of the vic- 
tims? 

Policeman — Sure — at headquarters, Miss. 

Vivian — Thank you. 

(Officer touches finger to cap.) 

George — May I ask why you want this list, Miss 
Rinehart ? 

Vivian — Well, you see, I may be able to find some 
color for a story I am writing. 

George — (skeptically) Oh — I see. 

(Exit Vivian L. Exit Policeman C.) 

Alon. — Mistah Gawge, dis little anecdote what jes' 
transpired will sort- o' put a kink in yo' anticipations, 
won't it not? 

George — What do you mean? 



32 The Trail Back Home 



Alon. — I imde'stood you-all was about to contract 
matrimony wid some female lady. 

George — Well — yes, I do intend marrying, as soon 
as I'm able to support a wife. 

Alon. — You-all bettah watch yo' footsteps, I reckon. 

George — Watch my step? 

Alon — Yes, sah. 

George — Why? 

Alon. — ^I has a idee Miss Vivian Blindhart has got 
de'-signs on yo' future. 

George — Don't lose any sleep over that idea. Miss 
Rinehart is an estimable young lady; but she is not ex- 
actly the type I would choose for my wife. She is one of 
these self-sufficient girls^ — a law unto herself, as it were. 
But the girl I marry is going to be a sweet-te,mpered lit- 
tle woman — the kind that clings to a man lovingly all 
down the pathway of life. 

Alon. — (smiling broadly) Yas, suh! Jes' de same 
kind as de one which tuk ovah my name an' liberty — a 
clingin' vine. She sho do cling, too. She kin cling to a 
argumint or a two-bit piece, longes' of any woman I evah 
seen. Clingin' is de fondest thing she is of. Don't en- 
lighten my unde'standin' 'bout dese clingin'-vine women 
folks. I is got a reg'lar dinger. 

(Enter Vivian, L.) 

Vivian — Well, Mr. — , why, I don't even know your 
name. 

George — ^Williams — George Williams. 

YiYiAN-^ (study ing) Williams — ^George Williams, 
did you say? 

George — Yes — ^George Williams, of Salem. 

Vivian— Of Salem? 

George — Yes. 

Vivian — (smiling knowingly) It strikes me I have 
heard of you before. 

George — Possibly you have, although I can't recall 



The Trail Back Home 33 

anything I have ever done that would put me in the pub- 
lic eye — outside of proving myself the prize sucker of 
the state. 

, Vivian — Perhaps you haven't been. 

George — I certainly have. 

Vivian — In a few weeks you may change your 
mind. 

George — In a few weeks — let's see — Christmas will 
be here, and I'll be home — the return of the prodigal son. 

Vivian— Don't lose HOPE. 

George — (quickly) What do you — oh, I guess I've 
already lost Hope. 

Vivian — You mustn't. 

George — You don't understand just what I mean. 

Vivian — (smiling) Probably I know more than you 
think. 

George — (To Alo7izo, who has dropped to sleep) 
Alonzo, figure up my bill. I am going to change my 
quarters. Too many crooks around here to suit me. 

Alon. — (startled, rubbing his eyes) Yas, suh — yas, 
suh. Is you-all leavin' dis hos'elry? 

George — Yes^ — and get a move on. And, Miss Rine- 
hart, I want to thank you for the way you have tried to 
encourage me, today. 

ViviaN: — Don't mention it. It was a pleasure. (Of- 
fers her hand.) 

George — Good-bye. And if you ever get up Salem 
way, look up my folks. 

Vivian — (Looks him straight in the eye and smiles) 
Well, I HOPE I will. (Exit hurriedly, L.) 

(George stands dumbfounded as curtain falls.) 
CURTAIN 



34 The Trail Back Home 

ACT III. 

(Time — Christmas Eve.) 

{Scene — Same as Act I.) 

{Discovered — Mr. Williams, sitting dejectedly in 
rocker, head hanging. Mrs. W. seated near, darning 
stockings. Silence for a fetv moments after rise of cur- 
tain.) 

Mr. W. — Alice, what have we ever don« that we 
should have all this trouble? Here it is Christmas Eve, 
and not a bit of money for presents. We haven't had a 
word from George for several weeks, and ho telling 
what has happened to him. The interest on the mortgage 
is due in three days without a chance of paying it oif . 

Mrs. W. — Lawrence, you mustn't always be looking 
at the dark side of things. The silver lining is still there, 
just as it has been in the past. No matter how dark the 
day, you may be sure the sun shines on the other side of 
the clouds. 

Mr. W. — {iv'hittling a match into a toothpick) May- 
be so, but if the blamed clouds are so thick it can't shine 
through, we've got to light the lamps, just the same. 
And that's hard to do when you're out of oil. I know 
there's plenty of money in the world, but it ain't doing 
us any good just now, is it? 

Mrs. W. — -Well, we've got three days yet, and while 
there's life there's hope. Something may turn up. {Jane 
is heard singing as she approaches.) Don't let Jane 
know. 

Mr. W. — She'll find out soon enough, I guess. 

{Enter Jane, R.) 

Jane — What are you all looking so sad about? Don't 
you know this is Christmas Eve? You must act happy. 

{Mr. W. hangs his head and chews toothpick.) 

{Jane looks at her father in wonder.) 

Mrs. W. — Your father doesn't feel well, Jane. 

Jane — {goes to his side and puts arm around his 



The Trail Back Home 35 

shoulder) Where do you feel bad, Daddykins? Want 
me to fix a mustard plaster for you? 

Mr. W. — No, Jane, don't bother. I guess I'm just 
tired. Feel kind of stuffy. 

jA'N'Er—igoing to chair) Wouldn't it be dandy, if 
George would come walking in and surprise us? But it 
wouldn't really surprise me, for I've a feeling he's going 
to get here tonight. You know, he said he'd see us at 
Christmas time. 

Mrs. W. — Maybe he will. I just heard the train a 
few minutes ago. 

Jane — [jumping wp) I know what I'm going to do. 
I'm going to light a candle and put it in the window for 
him. Won't it tickle him to see it from the road? 

Mr. W. — Don't build your hopes too high, Jane. 

(Jane goes out R., returning shortly with a candle, 
ivhich she lights and puts in ivindow. If no window is 
available, she may walk off stage and return without the 
candle.) 

Jane— Now, I must go and see how my candy is 
coming. George always loved homemade candy. Mother, 
aren't you anxious to see him? 

Mrs. W. — (wiping a tear) Yes, Jane, I am. 

Jane — Hope is coming over tonight. We will ex- 
change presents when she gets here. 

(Exit Jane, R.) 

Mr. W. — I hope she doesn't bring us anything. 

Mrs. W.— Why not? 

Mr. W. — Because we can't give her anything in re- 
turn. 

Mrs. W. — Hope isn't the kind of girl that gives 
a present in order to get one in return. She gives be- 
cause it makes her happy. 

(Noise of stamping feet off stage.) 
(Jane enters R. and hurries to door C.) 
(Enter Hope.) 



36 The Trail Back Home 

Hope — Gracious, how it's snowing! Good evening, 
everybody! Merry Christmas! 

{All return her greeting.) 

Jane — Give me your coat, Hope. 

Hope — Wait. There is something under it. (Takes 
package from under her coat and places on table. Re- 
moves coat and Jane hangs it up.) 

Mrs. W. — Hope, have you heard from George lately? 

Hope — Not for ages. But I am sure he intends 
coming home for Christmas. His letter was full 
of good cheer, and he seemed to be doing fine, but he 
never mentioned what he was doing. 

Jane — Well, I am making some of his favorite can- 
dy, and I've put a candle in the window. Seems like he 
ought to be getting here pretty soon. By the way, Hope, 
I have a little package for you. (Steps out door R., re- 
turning with Christmas package.) Here it is. It isn't 
much, but you will know we thought of you. (Hands it 
to Hope.) 

Hope — Oh, thanks, ever so much. And — (picks up 
her package) — here's one for all of you. (Opens pack- 
age and hands Christmas boxes to Mr. and Mrs. W. and 
Jane.) I made them all myself. 

(AU proceed to open packages, taking out presents 
and admiring them.) 

(Faintly, as though from a distance, comes the 
sound of male voices singing some old, familiar song, 
such as "Jingle Bells," "Sweet Adaline," "Old Kentucky 
Home," etc.) 

Jane — Listen ! 

(Attitude of listening by all. Singing comes near- 
er. Honk of an auto is heard outside, then boys' voices.) 

Mrs. W. — I wonder if it's George. 

Mr. W. — I doubt it. I suppose it's Joe and Tom and 
Bob, stopping on the way to town. 

Hope — (excited) I believe I heard George's voice 
— really, I do. 



The Trail Back Home 37 

Jane — I'll bet a dime he's there. (Jumps up and 
down, then runs to door and calls) Hello! 

George — (outside) Hello, Sis! How are you all? 
Jane — It's George! (Runs out.) 

(Mr. and Mrs. W. and Hope go to door, and shortly 
Geerge, Tom, Bob, Joe and Jane enter C.) 

(George embraces Mrs. W., sJmkes hands with Mr. 
W. He then goes to Hope and takes both of her hands in 
his. The neiucom,ers are boisterously greeting every- 
body else and George's tvords to Hope and her replies are 
unheard.) 

KOP^— (after quiet is restored) We're mighty glad 
to see you again, George. 

George — And, believe me, I'm glad to be back. I 
never before realized this old place was so beautiful. It 
was worth walking a week to see. 

Mrs. W. — How long are you going to stay with us, 
George? 

George — Till you chase me out, mother. 

Mr. W. — What? I thought you liked the city so 
well. 

George — I did. But some way, I don't seem to fit 
in. The folks there are so different. And I never was 
any happier than when I packed my grip and hit the 
trail back home — to the real folks. 

Tom — See any pretty girls, George? 

George — (looking at Hope) Not a one that could 
hold a candle to some of the girls back here. 

Bob — For instance — Hope? 

(Embarrassed smiles from George and Hope.) 

Jane— George, in one of your letters, you said you 
had found a fine job, just what you had always wanted to 
do, and that was the last we ever heard about it. What 
was it? 

George — (uneasily) Sis, if it's all the same to you, 
we'll talk about something else. 



38 The Trail Back Home 



Mrs. W. — (anxiovsly) Why, George, you haven't 
done anything to be ashamed of, have you? 

George — Not in the way you mean, mother, but I'm 
rather ashamed of myself, at that, 

Mrs. W. — Please tell us, George. It worries me. 

George^ — It worries me, too. 

Hope — You might feel better, George. 

George — Well, it won't take long to tell it, and I 
suppose it might as well be out of my system. 

Bob — Sure — might as well. 

George — Well, after I landed, I started out over the 
city to see what large, growing firm would bid the high- 
est for my services. I was going to be kind but firm, and 
not accept any ordinary position. After the first day, 
I decided I might be satisfied with a position as assist- 
ant superintendent; at the end of the second day, I 
would have been satisfied with a secretaryship and when 
three days had gone by I found myself envying the im- 
pudent office boys. 

Mr. W.— Didn't I tell you? 

George — Yes, father, you told me. 

Jane — Go on. 

George — Then, at the hotel, I met a fellow named 
Glass, and he got to talking about the detective business. 
He pretended to be a captain of detectives, and said he 
needed miore men. Well, I've always wanted to be a de- 
tective, so I was right after him for a job. He said I 
would have to pay a fee of eighty dollars to join the 
force. I had only about $65 and he took that, which 
left me owing him fifteen dollars. 

Mr. W. — Didn't I tell you? I thought some slicker 
would get you. 

George — Well, he got me. 

Mrs. W. — Poor boy! 

George — But in less than an hour I arrested a man. 

Joe— What for? 



The Trail Back Home 39 

George — For spitting on the floor. 

Tom — {laughing) For spitting on the floor? Ar- 
rested a man for spitting on the floor? 

George — Sure, I did. 

Mr. W.— Well, of all the — 

George — Well, for that eighty dollars. Glass gave 
me a book which told of the many little things you could 
pinch a man for doing, like spitting on the floor, and so 
forth, so I got this fellow. 

Jane — Well, George! 

George — Well, I took him around to headquarters, 
and when he tried to give me the slip, I grabbed him and 
pulled his mustache off. 

Mrs. W. — Oh, George! 

George — Yes — you see, it was a false one. 

Hope — Oh! How exciting! 

George — Then the chief of police recognized him as 
a crook wanted for safe-blowing, and for whom there 
was a reward ol twelve hundred dollars offered. 

Mr. W. — And you got it, George? You got twelve 
hundred dollars? 

George — Yes. Two hundred cash and a check for 
a thousand. 

Mr. W. — {rising and walking over to George and 
slapping him on the shoulder) Mother, I always did have 
a sneaking idea that George had it in him to be a detect- 
ive. 

Mrs. W. — Well, I always told you he would make a 
success of anything he liked. 

Mr. W. — George, may I have a word with you? 

George — Sure. 

{Mr. W. leads him down stage to right front and 
talks to him, ivhile the others talk in loiv tones, occasion- 
ally pointing to George and his father.) 

Mr. W. — You know we are pretty hard up right 
now, George? 



40 The Trail Back Home 

George — No, I didn't know it, father. 

Mr. W. — Well, we are; lost a dozen pigs and corn 
dropped away dov/n in price; and old Spencer is pushing 
us for the mortgage money, threatening to foreclose. 

George — He is? (angrily) The old miser. 

Mr. W.— Yes. 

George — Aren't you able to pay it? 

Mr. W. — I don't see how. I had been figuring on 
getting a little help from you, when you got home. 

George — -(dejectedly) I wish I could, father, but 
just now, I'm decidedly broke. 

Mr. W.I— Why — didn't you get twelve hundred dol- 
lars for your crook? 

George — Yes. 

Mr. W. — You surely haven't spent it all! 

George — I lost it. 

Mr. W.— Lost it! 

George — Yes. Invested it in some oil stock, and got 
beautifully stung. 

Mr. W. — (exasperated) Well, of all the dumb — . 
(To the others.) What do you know about that? This 
foolish boy has gone and lost his twelve hundred dollars 
in some fake oil stock. ' Mother, what have I been saying 
all along? Didn't I say it would be queer if the city 
sharpers didn't get him? Didn't I, mother? 

George — (forlornly) I guess you were right, dad. 

Jane — You've had some experience, anyway, have- 
n't you, George? 

George — (looking at Hope as he answers) Plenty 
of it. 

Hope — Are you going back, George? 

George — Not on j^our lif e ! I've had enough. After 
I was stung, I left that hotel, found another almost as 
bad and washed dishes in a restaurant until day before 
yesterday. I felt rather safe there, and I was sure of 
something to eat — such as it was. 



The Trail Back Home 41 

Joe — Well, let's cheer this crowd up a little. Here 
it is Christmas Eve, and it looks like a funeral around 
here. Let's have a little song. Hope, you play the piano 
and Mr. George Williams will sing that beautiful ballad 
entitled, "My money's gone over the ocean, my money's 
gone over the sea. My money lies over the ocean; oh, 
bring back my money to me." (Sings.) "Bri-i-ing ba- 
ack, bring back — " 

Bob — (going toward Joe) Help me choke him, 
George. 

Tom — Well, suppose we do sing. 

Jane — All right. Come on. What shall it be? 

(The young people gather around the piano and 
sing some familia/r song. In the midst of the singing, 
Otis Spencer enters, and mv^ic stops.) 

Mrs. W. — (rising and offering a chair) Why, good 
evening, Mr. Spejicer. I never heard you knock. 

Spencer — No wonder-^with all this racket, 

George — (com,ing forward) Howdy, Mr. Spencer, 

Spencer — (gruffly) Howdy. Had to come home, I 
see. 

George— Sure. I couldn't stay away over Christ- 
mas, 

Spencer — (to Mr. W.) You seem to be having a 
pretty good time for folks as hard up as you claim to be. 

Mrs. W.— There ain't anything to be gained by wor- 
rying. 

(George and Hope stand near piano, earnestly en- 
gaged in conversation.) 

Spencer — What about the mortgage Williams? 

Mr, W. — Listen here, Spencer, that money is not 
due until the twenty-seventh, and when it is due, I'll 
have it for you — or get out. 

Spencer — Don't get so huffy about it. I was going 
by and just stopped in for a minute. But, you listen to 
me and don't fly too high. On the twenty-seventh you 
have the money ready, or you will get out. 



42 The Trail Back Home 

George — (who has heard the last remark) Say, 
you old money-grubber, you get out, right now. (Goes 
toivard Spencer, threateningly.) 

Mrs. W. — ^George, George! 

Spencer — Don't get too smart, young fellow. You'll 
more'n likely be pleadin' with me afore this week's up — 
and a lot o' good it'll do you, too. 

George — (Rushes toward Spencer, but Hope catches 
his arm) You better go while you can or you won't be 
able to come after your old money. 

Spencer — (leering) Better hold your tongue, or 
you might spend your Christmas in the lock-up. 

Hope — Don't pay any attention to him, George. It 
only makes matters worse. 

(Telephone rings o.nd Jane answers,) 

Jane — Hello. * * Yes, this is Jane Williams, 

* * Oh, you say you have a message? * * For 
George Williams? * * Yes, he's right here. I'll 
call him. (To George.) Long distance calling you, 

(George goes to phone and takes receiver.) 
George — Hello. * "' George Williams speaking. 

* * Miss Rinehart? 

Mr. W.— (^0 the others) I'll bet he's in more trouble. 
Like enough some chorus girl after him for a breach of 
promises. 

George — (at phone) You don't mean it! * * 
WHAT! * * Honest? * * Oh, boy!— I mean 
Oh, goody! * * Do I what? * * Yes, I liked 
the work, but I believe the farm is the best place, after 
all ■^•' * (Listens for several moments.) Thank you 
ever so much, * * Sure, we'd be delighted to have 
you. * * Good-bye. (Hangs up.) 

(He begins dancing around the room and grabs the 
boys by the shoulders, pats Jane on the cheek, hugs his 
mother, and Hope, dances with his dad, and pushes old 
Spencer in the chest, causing him to sit heavily in the 
chair behiyid him.) 



The Trail Back Home 43 

Joe — Better phone for the dog wagon. 

George — (dancing around the room, singing) "My 
money's come back o'er the ocean; my money's come 
back o'er the sea. My money's come back o'er the ocean, 
My money sure looks good to me. — Ta — da-a-a, Ta — da- 
a-a-a. Ta — " 

Mrs. W. — George, please tell us what it's all about. 

Spencer — He's crazy. 

George — Of course I'm crazy. Send me to the 
lock-up. 

Jane — Sit down. 

George — (sits) It was from Vivian Rinehart. She 
says she knows you, Hope. 

Hope — Vivian Rinehart! I should say I do know 
-her. We went to school together, and after she left 
school, she got into the secret service. But what is the 
matter ? 

George — (starts to get up, but Tom and Bob push 
him back into the chair) Oil, oil, oil ! That's what's the 
matter. 

Mr. W.— Oil? What oil? , 

George — My oil. My thousand dollars worth of oil 
stock. 

Hope — What about it, George? Tell us. 

George — (growing calmer) It's not a long story — 
but, believe me, it's a pippin. (All listen attentively.) 
At the hotel where I was staying, there was a girl, this 
Miss Rinehart. She gave out the impression that she 
was an authoress, looking for material for stories. When 
Black, the oil man, disappeared, and it looked as if I had 
been stung, she began to get busy and last week, as I 
was getting ready to leave and feeling so downhearted, 
she tried to cheer me up, but I never dreamed she was a 
detective. She told me that maybe I would come out 
all right. Now, I learn she has been on the trail of these 
swindlers. 

Mr. W. — But what good will it do you, if they have 
your money? 



44 The Trail Back Home 

George — Well she and Uncle Sam are making the 
crooks use the money. They started an investigation, 
sent an oil expert down to Texas and he said there was 
oil there if they would only get after it. The authorities 
put men to work and after digging a while they struck 
a whopper of a gusher, then another — and another. Div- 
idends will be four hundred per cent, so my income right 
this minute is around four thousand dollars per annum. 
If they keep on working, I'll likely pull down five or six 
thousand. They have mailed me by special delivery, a 
check for a thousand dollars just to sort of pull me over 
Christmas. 

Joe — Ain't business grand? 

Jane — {breathlessly) Then you are rich, George? 

George — If somebody doesn't wake me up, I am. 

Hope — I'm glad for you, George. 

Mr. W.^ — I kinda thought something like this would 
happen, 

George — {suddenly observing Spencer) Are you 
still here? {To Mr. W.) How much do you owe this gen- 
tleman, father? 

Mr. W. — Four hundred dollars and seventy-eight 
cents. 

George — Tell him he will get his money on the day 
it is due. — And ask him to shut the door — as he goes 
out. 

{Mrs. W. shoivs Spencer to door C. and closes it.) 

Mr. W. — {rubbing his hands and patting George on 
the back) I knew you'd come out all right in the end. 

George — {Goes to Hope, takes both hands in his, 
and they walk to the front of the stage, while the others 
laugh and point at them) Hope, little girl, what color 
do you want the shingles on our new bungalow out there 
at the edge of the woods — red or green? {Puts his arm 
ahout her and draws her closer.) 

Hope — {looking up happily) I like BROWN. 

{As curtain falls, they kiss — almost.) 
CURTAIN 



USE THESE ON ANY SCHOOL PROGRAM 



T UNEFUL OPENING 
AND CLOSING SONGS 

PRICE 35 CENTS EACH 

You're Welcome If You Keep Rig-ht 
Still. 

If We Were You and You Were Us. 

We'll Try to Make You Come Again. 

It's Yerj Clear Your Welcome Here. 

Hello, Everybody— Grlad to See You 
Here. 

With a Tear In Oue Eye, We Will 
Tell You Goodbye. 

It's Time to Tell You All Goodbye. 



THESE WILL MAKE YOUR 
WHOLE ENTERTAINMENT 
EVEN MORE SUCCESSFUL 



4 



ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE 

FRANKLIN, OHIO also 944 S. Logan, DENVER, COLO. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRE 




YOU WILL BE GLAD TO Khv,.°^-'°^ 

THESE NEW PLAYS 

Training Mary 

By Mary Shaw Page. A bright 1-act play with sim- 
ple stage setting. William, husband of Mary, essays 
to train Mary, especially along the lines of correcting 
carelessness. As is always the case, William .^ets in 
deep water, but finally w^ades out. 2 males, 4 fe- 
males, and plays about 45 minutes. Price, 25c. 

The Hired Man's Courtship 

By Alice Cripps. A short comedy-drama in 2 acts. 
Captain Edwards tires of wealth and the city, and 
procures work on Horton's farm, only to find that the 
farmer's daughter is an old sweetheart. Because of 
an intrigue on the part of the captain's cousin, an es- 
trangement takes place, which ends happily whien the 
captain finds the source of certain stories and re- 
futes them. Aunt Hepsey, Jim and Ezra (colored), 
add comedy to the play. Plays about 45 minutes, 
and is for 3 males and 3 fejnales. Price, 23c. 

Merely Anne Marie 

A comedy in 3 acts by Beulah King. 3 males, 5 fe- 
males. Time, 21/2 hours. The scenes are laid in a 
fashionable boarding house, and the charatcters are all 
distinct types and worth while. A successful play- 
^vright, desiring to escape notoriety, seeks seclusion 
at Mrs. Teague's and becomes the hero of Anne Ma- 
rie, the dining room maid. The dialogue is bright, 
the situations clever and the story ends happily. 35c. 

A Bit of Scandal 

By Fannie Barnett Linsky. Comedy-drama in 2 acts. 
Francina, who is to play at the recital, composes her 
own number. On the evening of the recital, Mary 
Sherman, who precedes her on the program, plays 
Francina's compositions, w^hich she has stolen. The 
reasons for the theft all come out later and of course, 
all ends vrell. Nine characters. Plays about 1 hour. 
Price, 35c, 

Miss Burnett Puts One Over 

By Ethelyn Sexton. A rollicking 1-act girls' play for 
6 characters. Barbara's mother has a friend, Ann Bur- 
nett, who is to visit the girls at college, with the in- 
tention of giving a generous sum to the school. The 
girls, wishing o gain her good will, practice their 
"manners." Miss Burnett, however, appears in dis- 
Sruise and has much fun at their expense. All ends 
well and the school gets the money. Plays about 45 
> minutes. Easy setting and costumes. Price, 25c. 

Eldridge Entertainment House 

FRANKLIN, OHIO also DENVER, COLO. 

944 S. Logan St. 

' 



